


Aftermath

by TakeMeOut



Category: Drop Dead Fred (1991)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeMeOut/pseuds/TakeMeOut
Summary: Fred turns to an old friend after he says goodbye to Elizabeth.





	Aftermath

She’s almost finished drying her hair when the sudden appearance of a green-clad reflection in the mirror makes her nearly drop the hairdryer in shock. “Fuck, Fred … Jesus Christ,” she says, clutching her chest. She’s about to berate him for not knocking on the door like normal people, when she sees the expression on his face.

He looks drawn and pale, and there’s a weariness in his eyes she hasn’t seen before. She touches his cheek in concern. “Is it done?”

He nods briefly, and as his eyebrows pull together in sadness she holds him tightly, and he buries his face in her neck. He takes a deep breath before he speaks, his voice muffled by her skin. “She’s finally stood up to her mother and left Charles, and I think she’ll actually start living her life now.”

She pushes him away slightly to look at him. “You should be proud … that sounded like a tough assignment. I honestly thought you were going to push her over the edge, from what you told me.”

He raises one eyebrow slightly, and although a smile hovers around his mouth, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I might have pushed it a bit far,” he says thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “Especially when I sank her friend’s riverboat. It was an accident!” he adds indignantly, as she raises her eyebrows. She laughs, and shakes her head. “You know what, I don’t even want to know.”

Fred clutches her again like he’s drowning, every muscle tense; he smells deliciously, as he always does, of unnameable spices and clean earth. He never voices what he needs, but after all these years, she knows. She runs her fingers through his wild orange hair, and gently tilts his head up. His eyes are desperate with want, and she kisses him softly with parted lips. “Come on, Fred. Come to bed with me.” He closes his eyes and kisses her back, his voice so low that she hardly hears him say, “Thank you.”

She slips his jacket off and he watches her as she runs her hands appreciatively over his body, over the tanned skin of his neck, the firm curve of his biceps and the swell of his broad chest. “You’re wasted on kids, you know,” she mutters, as she stands on tiptoe to put her lips against the warm skin behind his ear, and for the first time he huffs briefly with laughter. 

She runs her hand down the front of his trousers to find he’s already achingly hard, and he gives a wordless exclamation as he rubs helplessly against her palm, rutting into her warm touch as his forehead sinks down onto her shoulder. He gasps out, “Fuck … please …” and she takes mercy on him, pulling his clothes off quickly and letting her robe drop to the floor as she leads him towards the bed. 

She lies back and he slides between her parted legs, kissing her breasts with the wide-eyed look of profound wonder he never seems to lose however many times she takes him into her bed. For her part, she never fails to be surprised at how turned on his soft touch always makes her. 

He groans deeply as he pushes inside her, but goes still immediately, resting his forehead against hers with his eyes shut, his eyebrows drawn together as if in pain. He’s almost incoherent with need, but manages to gasp out, “Shit … you feel incredible.” His body vibrates with the effort of retaining control, every sinew in his shoulders and neck standing out. “Fuck … I can’t ….” 

She kisses along his jawline. “Just let go, Fred. Do what you need to do.” She feels his cock twitch briefly inside her, but he still hesitates, and she wraps her legs around him. “I’m not going to break, you daft bastard,” she says, and then he’s thrusting desperately into her as she digs her heels into his backside to urge him on. 

His desire is infectious, and it becomes difficult to catch her breath as he covers her mouth and pushes his tongue deep against hers. Despite the roughness of his wild thrusts, he rubs at just the right angle against the spot inside her that he’s always so clever at finding; before long she’s arching against him, digging her fingernails into his arms as she comes hard around him, rendered incoherent with pleasure. She hardly has time to draw breath before he shifts down and pushes himself even deeper inside her, his body stilling and tensing rock-hard as he comes, a guttural groan of relief and pleasure escaping from between clenched teeth.   

Later, she’s dozing fitfully as he lazily flicks his tongue against her folds, head leaning casually against one of her thighs. He teases her endlessly, waking her with a sudden suck or lick when she drifts into sleep, then dialling it back when her hands begin to tighten compulsively in his hair. She looks down at him as he gently mouths her, his hair backlit by the afternoon sun streaming through the window as though his head is on fire. He looks up at her and grins wickedly, but there’s still a hint of pain in those pale blue eyes, and she clamps his head firmly between her thighs to stop his movement. “Fred, for fuck’s sake. Will you just talk to me?” 

He slides up her body and lies next to her on the pillow. As she predicts, he hides behind goofiness, crossing his eyes and making a ridiculous face at her. “You want to talk about  _ feeeeelllings? _ I’m not a  _girl,_ you know.” She resists the urge to kick him in the shins, and puts on a stern voice. “Fred, that’s not going to wash with me.” 

His mouth slackens and he shuts his eyes. She touches his warm lips with her fingertips, and says, “I know it’s always hard at the end of an assignment, but something’s different this time.”

He rolls onto his back and throws one forearm over his eyes as though he’s hiding. She waits, and eventually he opens his mouth to speak, his voice deep with the richness of tone she so loves when he’s not fooling around. “It’s just … I’m not sure how much longer I can keep on doing this.” He turns to rest his head on her chest, and she tucks his hair behind his ear and runs one finger around it as he sighs. “It’s so hard to say goodbye to them all. And I have to leave every single one of them.” 

“Except me.”

He sighs. “Except you. Thank God. And we still don’t know why you never stopped being able to see me.”  _ And it’s better not to ask too many questions about that, _ is the unspoken agreement between them. 

They’re quiet for a while as he trails his fingers absently across her breasts, and she thinks back to the first time she realised there was another, much more considered side to him behind the pranks and the craziness and the endlessly manic mischief. How as she became an adult she began to hear his quieter, deeper voice more and more often, and how a broad grin of genuine astonishment and delight spread across his face the first time she kissed him. And how he’d begun to come to her every time he’d said goodbye to yet another friend; how she’d found ways to soothe his hurt. 

“Fred … where do you think I’d be now if you hadn’t been around when I was a kid?”

His fingers go still, and then he flips his body over in one quick, agile movement so he’s lying at right angles to her, his face pillowed on her stomach so he can look up at her as she talks. He shrugs, unusually silent. 

“I’ll tell you. I’d be every bit as defeated as my father wanted me to be. I’d be going nowhere, stuck in the kind of relationship my family thought I deserved, and probably thinking about putting my head in the gas oven. But you showed me who I could be, and how I ought to be treated, and I survived. And I’m happy, Fred, and that’s because of you.” 

He stays silent as she goes on. “And I’m only one person, Fred. Think of how many you’ve helped.” She pushes him onto his back and climbs astride him. “Don’t give up, Fred. The kids need you. Especially the ones you haven’t met yet.”

He thinks for a while, and nods slowly and thoughtfully as the sadness in his eyes begins to clear. She rubs slightly against him and feels his cock begin to pulse as he becomes hard again. “Do you have to go straight away?” she asks. 

He smirks. “Not straight away. And I’ll be back in not too long, I promise.” She grins back, and leans over to kiss him as his hands slide around her hips.


End file.
